siren 𝜗𝜚

you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. somehow more upset than you are at the moment.

you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while you’re stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.

after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure.

he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“enough with the tears,” sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.

his eyes flicker over your body—taking in the sight of your round belly. he can’t deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days.

sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long you’ve been sobbing? the realisation that no one’s checked on you while you’ve been crying like this irks him.

the king of curses will make sure that every single servant—and especially the ones assigned to you—pay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.

“damn it, woman,” he curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, “what’s gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"

you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.

“welcome home,” you utter, remembering to greet him properly.

you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. “i—i went down to the kitchen to get som-something,” you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukuna’s irritation spikes.

“but they didn’t have the food i craved. they’re out of mangoes,” your wailing starts again just at the mention of the fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.

sukuna’s annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that you’re crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he can’t help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

he brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. “mangoes, huh? y’re out here bawling y’r fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?”

despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplify emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, you’re stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.

“mangoes,” you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch.

you guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.

though, mangoes are your current craving and not having them meant war to you. it’s all you can focus on—even if your beloved is right in front of you.

“i need them,” you whine and pout again. your hormones make it difficult for you to calm down.

you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out.

“i want my mangoes,” your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, “please?”

sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that you’re experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.

the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight.

“tsk, damn it,” he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, “y’re really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?”

here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. he’s seen you in many states—happy, sad, tired, excited—but never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit.

sukuna’s large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.

you pout at him and lean into his touch. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do.

“well, yes, you’re the one who got me pregnant,” you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.

no matter what sour mood you’re in, you can still be sassy.

though it doesn’t last long before your bottom lip trembles again. “i can’t do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,” you sniff as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your desire.

sukuna’s smirk wides at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. cheeky little woman, he thinks.

your husband scoffs, his large hand roughly ruffling your hair again before pulling away.

“‘n i don’t regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with y’r cranky ass.”

you roll your eyes at sukuna’s reply. you know you’re an emotional mess, but you can’t care less. you’d dl anything for your mangoes—those juicy ones that you can eat a dozen of in one sitting.

“the maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ‘nd villages nearby,” you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. you’re trying your best to stay rational.

you’re extremely hungry and haven’t eaten ever since breakfast. that’s how stubborn you are being.

“but i’m hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,” you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.

“yeah, yeah—fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. it’s a constant reminder of the effect he has on you and it makes him proud.

he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you don’t strain a single muscle.

after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eat—perhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.

sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walk towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra.

it’s driving him insane.

“mangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i fuckin’ get it, brat,” the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb.

you’re lucky that he ‘tolerates’ you as his wife.

it’s something more than just ‘tolerating’ you, of course, but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.

if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that it’s simply because you’re carrying his heir. however only he knows the full truth, the sappy secret he’ll forever keep to himself.

before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume.

they glance from sukuna to you and bow. “good day,” they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. they’ve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.

the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows you’re holding yourself back from asking for your craving again.

sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume.

“keep an eye on her while ‘m gone. feed her what she wants,” he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.

uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.

“where are you going, hubby?”

you of course, get a free pass.

you don’t hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him such in an oblivious manner. you should known where he is departing to.

“where’d you think, smartass?” he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.

you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.

“you better hold on ‘til i come back with y’r stupid mangoes,” he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, “and when i do, i don’t wanna hear ‘nother squeak, understood?”

sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.

your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that he’s actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.

“okay! love you, ryo!” you call out to your husband as he disappears behind the gates.

as expected, your words are met by silence.

that’s fine with you. not hearing an ‘i love you’ back doesn’t hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.

you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didn’t, you’d be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didn’t like you.

and that’s all that matters.

A breeze moves through the garden, rippling the pond. The koi scatter slightly. 

“To whom?”

“The fish.”

A thick silence settles. Even the insects seem quieter now.

“That one is judging you,” you add pointing. 

Sukuna’s attention snaps with precision. “Which one?”

“The orange one.”

“There are several orange ones,” he grumbles, stepping closer.

Their scales catch the light as they glide, indistinguishable except for the way they circle, slow and aimless.

He lowers himself beside you, his large frame folding with controlled ease, eyes fixed on the water like he’s studying prey. “It’s not blinking.”

“Yeah,” you nod, completely serious. “That means it’s plotting.”

A beat.

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Then I will kill it.”

Your hand grabs his sleeve instantly. “No!—”

But it was too late. The surface of the pond trembles once then goes perfectly still, like glass. 

Every koi freezes mid-motion, suspended unnaturally in the water. Even the faint ripple of wind dies out.

It’s wrong. Quiet in a way that presses against your ears.

Sukuna straightens slightly, expression calm, almost thoughtful as he watches the unmoving fish. “It will not plot again,” he sneers.

You stare at him. 

“You just killed my emotional support fish.”

He looks at you, a slight crease forming between his brows. 

“You didn’t specify its importance,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. 

“Well it was implied.”

His gaze flicks back to the pond, then returns to you, slower now like he’s reassessing something far more complicated.

“I can retrieve more.”

“That’s not how it works.”

a/n: thank you so much for this request! i hope you enjoyed despite my lack of ability to write crack fics💔

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sukuna scoffs from where he’s sprawled back in the beach chair, one arm lazily hanging off the side.

“i don’t burn”

“yes you do”

“i literally don’t”

“your nose got pink last time”

his eyes narrow immediately, “it did not.”

“you then complained that it itched and brooded about it the whole time”

“i don’t brood”

you hum ignoring his offense entirely and pat your thighs.

“c’mere”

he stares at you for a long second before clicking his tongue and leaning forward anyway because despite all his dramatics, sukuna has never once denied you when you used that tone on him.

you snort as sukuna settles in front of you. his massive frame blocks the sun completely and he smells like saltwater and heat already despite barely having stepped into the ocean.

you squeeze sunscreen into your palms and rub it across his shoulders.

his muscles flex beneath your hands while you smooth lotion over the dark markings curling along his skin, careful and thorough despite the way he eyes you.

you drag your fingers over his neck and jaw, rubbing sunscreen into the bridge of his nose while he looks deeply inconvenienced by affection.

“look down”

“this is humiliating.”

“look down, so i can get the back of your neck.”

he grumbles under his breath but tilts his chin downward anyway. his previously bored, half lidded eyes, dilate at the sight of your cleavage, right. in. his. face.

how blissful.

yuji bursts into giggles. you had spiked up sukuna’s hair to stand up in a funky way.

“you look funny papa”

sukuna grimaces.

“want me to throw you into the ocean?”

“yeah!”

“…”

you laugh so hard you nearly smear sunscreen into sukuna’s eye.

you take turns, with sukuna now applying sunscreen onto your back.

eventually yuji tears off toward the shoreline with a plastic bucket in hand, sandals abandoned somewhere behind him.

you lean back into your chair with a satisfied sigh while sukuna sits beside you, one arm draped lazily behind your head.

for a while the two of you simply watch.

yuji jumps over tiny waves, yelling triumphantly every single time he successfully crosses one.

he crouches to collect shells with complete seriousness only to abandon them three seconds later because another wave has appeared.

his little laugh carries over the water. your chest feels warm.

“he looks like you when he gets excited,” you murmur, nuzzling against the base of sukuna’s neck.

“poor kid”

you elbow him lightly, “it is cute sukuna, you are cute”

before sukuna can mull over your words, yuji suddenly turns around spotting the two of you immediately.

“papa!! come here!!”

sukuna pretends not to hear,

“papa!!”

you mouth a slight ‘go’ as your husband sighs dramatically before obliging as per usual.

the water reaches just beneath his knees when yuji grabs his hand excitedly and starts dragging him around with all the strength a six year old could possess.

you pad in after them enjoying the waves and the feel of soft sand beneath your bare feet.

you smile to yourself. it is almost absurd seeing sukuna getting ordered around by a child carrying a neon orange shovel.

yuji points toward a lopsided sandcastle near the shore, “help me make it BIGGER” he sticks his arms out to act out how big he wanted it to be.

sitting back down on your chair you try not to look too amused as sukuna crouches down into the sand.

his large hands awkwardly shape wet sand while yuji gives deeply unnecessary instructions beside him.

“more tower”

sukuna looks over at you, pleading for an escape. you wave him off.

“it’s a sandcastle not a fortress” he mutters back.

“more tower” yuji runs about, sometimes gathering sand and sometimes water. most of the time being largely unhelpful.

sukuna clicks his tongue and adds another tower.

hours later the sky begins softening into gold.

yuji’s exhausted enough now to become clingy, dragging his feet through the sand while holding onto sukuna’s hand.

“i need to wash my feet” you brush sand off your legs with a tired groan.

before you can even move, sukuna bends down and scoops you into his arms effortlessly.

you yelp, “kuna—”

he pats you lower thigh,“stop squirming”

people nearby glance over briefly before immediately looking away once sukuna glares in their direction.

you hide your snicker against his shoulder while he carries you toward the rinse station near the boardwalk.

the water runs cool over your feet as he holds you securely against his chest, an arm around your waist like you weigh nothing at all.

yuji stands beside him sleepily rubbing his eyes.

once your feet are clean, sukuna sets you carefully onto the bench.

then without a word, he crouches down.

you blink.

“..what’re you doing?”

he grabs your sandals from beside the bench.

“your feet’ll get dirty again.”

years of loving him and your heart still stutters stupidly.

sukuna slides the sandals onto your feet one by one with mild annoyance etched across his face, but you know better. his love language when it came to you, was acts of service.

meanwhile yuji watches with narrowed eyes, “papa..?”

“what.”

“that’s sooo romantic” he smiles ear to ear.

sukuna immediately flicks water at his forehead.

yuji screeches dramatically while you laugh loud enough that people turn to look again.

“where did he even learn that?” sukuna asks, a mild smile overtaking his usual harsh features.

you shrug, in a dream-like trance, the domesticity of this moment making your heart soar.

and for once, sukuna doesn’t care at all.

firefly; you guys wanted longer fics so hehe i hope this was good

more like this

you chuckle, dropping the dramatic act. you ruffle megumi’s hair a bit before standing up. a yawn escapes your lips and you stretch your arms above your head—clearly in need of a break.

“i’m gonna take a quick nap, honey,” your eyes meet toji’s. your husband nods and sits up with a groan. he’s also sleepy, but he knows that you did most of the work today. he’ll gladly watch over megumi while you rest and regain your energy.

megumi starts to fuss the moment you step out of the playpen. his tiny hands reach out to you—the little boy clearly too attached to his mother. toji shakes his head and effortlessly picks his son up and puts him on his lap, “naw, y’re stuck with me buddy. mama’s gotta rest.”

megumi squirms around and whimpers. he’s clearly not interested in his dad at the moment. toji sighs and tries his best to keep the baby still, but to no avail.

“mama! mama!” the baby’s cries for you breaks your heart. you stop a a couple steps away and turn around with a pout. you notice how megumi is kicking his legs, thrashing around in toji’s arms in attempt to free himself.

you sigh and crouch down, “gumi, mama’s sleepy. . papa’s gonna play with you, okay?”

megumi, of course, does not understand what you mean. he thinks you’re leaving him alone and it causes him to wail loudly. you’re about to console your son, but backtrack when you notice how megumi’s starting to stand up on his own.

his chubby legs are barely holding his body weight up. the balance is hard to find for the baby, yet he still does his utmost best. he nearly trips from just standing.

even toji looks on with wide eyes and a hint of a prideful grin on his lips. he’s silently encouraging his son in his head.

“ma..ma,” megumi babbles. he almost topples over, but toji’s quick reflexes come in handy. a big hand keeps the baby standing straight. the dark-haired man carefully lets go again, however keeps his hand near his son’s body. just in case.

neither toji nor you could believe what was happening. you both watch in awe as megumi’s left foot moves forward—the right one copying that same movement.

your precious boy, taking his first steps right in front of you both to witness. it’s a heartwarming sight. you hold your breath and toji’s lips part slightly. your husband has yet to grasp why this scene in front of him makes him feel so. . . giddy on the inside.

“c’mon! come to mama!” you squeal excitedly and open your arms, encouraging megumi to your best ability.

the tiny boy giggles and moves his limbs as fast as they could go. his chubby hands flail around as he quickly walks over to you.

toji stares at his family and that’s when it hits him; how much he loves this peaceful life. his son just achieved another great milestone that he had the honour of witnessing firsthand. it made him happy that he chose this path instead of the more ‘darker’ one.

it also nearly causes your husband to shed some tears from pure joy. but, toji didn’t want to seem too ‘soft’. even if he secretly is for his wife and child.

toji coughs subtly. totally not to get rid of the irritating lump in his throat. a ghost of a smile appears on his face while he got up, immediately moving towards megumi and you.

“good job, kiddo,” toji says as he puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he stares down at megumi in your arms—the little boy getting drowned in kisses and compliments.

your ears twitch. there’s no denying it; the faint crack in toji’s voice. you give your kid a break from your overwhelming affection and tilt your head back. your eyes meet your husband’s.

you grin when you see how he quickly avoids your gaze. something he never does unless he’s. . .

“gonna cry?”

toji rolls his eyes at your question. he ignores your teasing by trying to change the subject. he focuses on megumi who’s still going absolutely wild in your embrace—cutely demanding more praise and kisses.

“daddy can also give ya some kisses, y’know,” toji pokes megumi’s cheek, fascinated by the plush fat. the baby stops babbling the moment his dad talks to him. he looks up at toji and then back at the finger still prodding at his cheek.

megumi opens his mouth and doesn’t waste a single second. he goes for a playful bite, though his little baby teeth do no real damage, “yumm.”

you giggle at the way megumi frowns at toji, his teeth holding tightly onto toji’s fingertip. it’s time for your husband to take over the dramatics now.

“hey, that ain’t so nice now,” toji hisses and leans forward until his face is right in front of megumi—a similar frown on both the dad and son’s faces. they really do look alike now that you see them both from up close again.

megumi only bites down more on the finger in his mouth and toji reacts to that by feigning his anger. it’s amusing to see how neither of them gives up first.

but, it’s also rather cute to see how the father-son dynamic plays out in cozy family moments like these.

your eyes focus back on toji’s face and you can’t help but smile to yourself. he’s a good husband and father; always there for the both of you. his own way of showing support for megumi’s first steps is rather heartwarming. plus, the playful banter between the two never fails to make any moment all the more precious.

But his hand automatically comes up, fixing Yuji’s crooked little collar, brushing invisible dust off his shoulders. He adjusts the straps of his backpack twice. Then again.

Then again.

Yuji just stands there, letting him, eyes all big and soft. “I’m okay, y’know.”

“I know that.”

“…then why you actin’ weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Sukuna mutters, jaw tight.

He crouches down in front of him, big hands on Yuji’s tiny shoulders now, steadying him. His brows are furrowed like he’s about to interrogate the entire school staff.

“Listen to me,” he says low, serious. “If anyone messes with you—anyone—you tell me. I don’t care if it’s a kid, a teacher, the principal—”

Yuji giggles. “You gonna fight my teacher?”

“I’ll fight the whole building if I have to.”

“That’s silly.”

“Not to me.”

There’s this brief pause.

And Sukuna just… looks at him.

Really looks.

The messy pink hair. The missing tooth. The way his socks don’t match because he insisted they “feel lucky.” The tiny fingers clutching onto his sleeve like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His chest tightens in a way he doesn’t like. Doesn’t understand.

“…you gonna be okay?” Sukuna asks, quieter now.

Yuji blinks. “Yeah?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah!” Yuji beams, like it’s the easiest answer ever. “I’m gonna make friends. And I’ll tell ‘em about you.”

Sukuna scoffs. “Don’t go around bragging about me.”

“I will. I’m gonna say my brother’s the strongest ever.”

“…tch.”

But his grip tightens just a little.

A teacher calls out, “Alright, kids, let’s head inside!”

Yuji perks up immediately. “That’s me!”

He starts to run off—then stops, runs back, and throws his little arms around Sukuna’s neck.

It catches him off guard.

“Bye, ‘Kuna!” Yuji chirps, squeezing tight. “Don’t miss me too much!”

“…yeah. Whatever.”

But Sukuna’s hand comes up, pressing firmly against Yuji’s back, holding him there for just a second longer than necessary.

Just one second.

Then he pulls away, ruffling his hair a little rougher than needed. “Go. Don’t be late on your first day, idiot.”

Yuji grins, completely unbothered, and runs off toward the classroom.

Sukuna stays crouched there for a moment.

Watching.

He watches until Yuji disappears inside. Watches like if he looks away too soon, something might go wrong.

The noise of other parents chatting, kids laughing—it all fades out.

For a second, it’s just him and the empty space where Yuji was.

“…stupid kid,” he mutters under his breath.

But he doesn’t leave.

Not immediately.

He stands there, hands in his pockets now, staring at the school doors like he’s guarding them.

Like he’s waiting.

Just in case Yuji comes running back out.

Just in case.

And when he finally does turn away, there’s this weird, unfamiliar weight sitting in his chest.

Not panic or fear.

Just…

something soft.

Something he’ll never admit out loud.

But it lingers all the way home.

(yes, he misses yuujiiii and yes, he's worried)

a/n this is so poorly executed, but my brain is so emptyyy!!!! btw yuuji is around 6years old, being sukuna's little brother 🥹💗 ignore the dialogue of the art i js thought it was so cute...